


must I remind you, cleis

by shannedo



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Canonical Character Death, F/M, Grief/Mourning, If You Squint - Freeform, pre Kassandra/Natakas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 05:14:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17616188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shannedo/pseuds/shannedo
Summary: In Makedonia, Kassandra remembers.





	must I remind you, cleis

The sun shone golden through the treetops, falling like so many lashes of paint on the undergrowth below. Makedonia was beautiful in the autumn. The lush grass was carpeted with crisp leaves in all the shades of a forest fire. The rustling hadn’t helped much with their hunt earlier.

They had kept their wits, though, and the scent of the roasting boar on the open fire had her mouth watering. Her first hot meal in what felt like forever.

_“This is delicious, Natakas – a life on the road, when did you have time to learn how to cook?”_

_“If you had been raised on Darius’ cooking, you would have learned the value of proper seasoning as well.”_

_“Well, I can only turn chickens to charcoal. With so many people calling me a god, you’d think I could perform a more impressive miracle.”_

_“That is a perfectly adequate miracle if you ask me. Even the King of Gods can only smite a chicken with a lightning bolt.”_

She smiled to herself, glancing over at the man lounging on the other side of the fire. He seemed entranced by the sunset. The scattering of gold light on his dark skin was like honey dripping down a clay pot. The boar was finished with and now they watched the dying of the light. Sometimes speaking, sometimes silent, either was comfortable.

Her mind slipped back to another sunset spent by a fire, another man who made her breath catch. Her heart gave an aching jolt. He had been so beautiful in that light, as resplendent as any god and as peaceful as she’d ever seen him. He’d wrapped her in his arms and held her back to his impossibly broad chest. She’d lay between his legs and watched the world drift lazily past. They had spoken of their pasts. Of swindlers and opportunists striving for a taste of glory on a forgotten spit of land. Of parents who always expected more and would only be proud once their child came home upon their shield.

They had spoken of the future, also. Of a house by the ocean – it wouldn’t have to be a big one – and a stall in the agora. Of a son they could teach to fish.

It was the soldiers who told his mother when he fell. She was glad of that now. When she heard the tales of the proud Spartan mother asking if her son had fought bravely, she knew she would’ve throttled her on the spot.

He always fought bravely. He never deserved to die.

“Where do you go?” Natakas asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “When you disappear into your head like that?”

She met his gaze and smiled gently. It did her no good to dwell on that which she could not change. “Amphipolis is a day’s ride from here, is it not?”

He shrugged. “Thereabouts.” He watched for a second. Dark brown eyes. Natakas’ eyes were different, wider, less world weary. But they were kind. The only similarity she needed. “What do you seek in Amphipolis?”

“An agora. I ran out of healing salves a moon’s turn ago.”

He didn’t believe her. His face read like an open book and one thick brow had tugged upwards into an arch. “We have anything you could need here, you need only help yourself. My father packs enough medicine for a small army.” He didn’t believe her. But he didn’t push her.

Hush fell like a blanket over them. Her stomach did an uncertain little twist. She had nothing to hide from him. All the Greek world knew what the Eagle Bearer had lost that day. They said that when Brasidas of Sparta fell, the trees shook with the scream of righteous fury that was heard. She couldn’t say whether she remembered that.

All the Greek world knew. That didn’t mean they deserved to.

But there were flowers laid in the memory of Natakas’ sister not feet from where she sat. He had told her how Neema died, he said he loved her and then was silent. Sometimes words were not enough. And suddenly she felt disgusted by her own arrogance. As if her own grief could be more precious than his.

“My lover.”

Natakas looked confused for a moment. He hadn’t been expecting an answer.

“My lover lies in Amphipolis,” she said, her voice about ready to crack under the weight of it all.

Natakas nodded solemnly, holding her gaze without flinching. When it became evident Kassandra would not speak further, he drew breath. “I have heard Brasidas of Sparta was a great leader, the best military mind of an age. I do not doubt that he was a lot more than that.”

The knot in her throat ached like a sharp stone, lodged and scratching. “He was.”

He nodded again. “I do not think they are gone when they die, Kassandra. They live on, within us.”

She let out a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding.

“They are the gentle autumn rain.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry this is pretty gloomy omg but it was cathartic to write? I'm working through a lot of similar emotions right now, so it helped just a little! "Must I remind you, Cleis" is the title of a beautiful Sappho poem.
> 
> I don't think I would continue on with this fic - it's short & quickly written - but I would like to write more Brasidas/Kassandra and put some real Kassandra/Natakas onto Ao3. He's a real sweetie in my opinion, there ain't many male video game characters wearing their heart on their sleeve like Natakas!
> 
> Also, on a historical note, that is genuinely what Brasidas' mother asked when he died, according to Plutarch. Probably not my first response to the death of my child but each to their own, I guess?//?/?///??
> 
> Let me know what you think in the comments ;) and I am @astolove on Tumblr!
> 
> Love, as always <3


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